


"I'm Sorry"

by leen_go (cagedchaos)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: DeathNote!AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2018-10-25 10:11:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10762131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cagedchaos/pseuds/leen_go
Summary: Kris is a God of Death looking for entertainment in the human world.





	"I'm Sorry"

When Kris dropped his Death Note in the human world, he had been bored. Humans, someone once told him, were of good entertainment value if you could find the right ones. Kris had spent the better part of the early morning perched upon a lamp post at a high traffic intersection, watching adult humans walk push past each other in droves, rushing to and from. Adults were boring, he decided. They had no imagination and had a single thing on their mind: themselves.  
  
Kris decided instead to migrate to another age group: teenagers. Now _those_ , Kris thought to himself, were a funny group, overly confident in their own abilities and running on an engine fuelled by hormones. Volatile is what Kris decided they were, perfect for a little experiment. But which of these smelly two legged creatures should he pick? This one spent too much time on her appearance that Kris doubted she would even notice a dropped Death Note. That one probably only had just enough brain cells to keep him walking in a relatively straight line. “Decisions, decisions,” Kris muttered, spinning the black notebook on a dirty fingernail as he continued to survey his specimen from his crouch on the school’s rooftop ledge.  
  
…  
  
When Kris had picked the small cowering teenager who was getting harassed by a trio of boys who were each at least twice his size, he’d assumed the boy would immediately choose to end the lives of those who seemed to be making his life a miserable hell. Instead, the boy had stared at the notebook dully before shrugging and stowing it into his backpack where it stayed, forgotten, for over a week.  
  
Kris followed the teenager for a week, snickering to himself a couple of times when the human turned around abruptly with a confused look on his face when he couldn’t place the source of his feeling of being watched. “I’ll show myself when you use that book, boy,” Kris had said out loud to unhearing ears.  
  
…  
  
Wings flapping lazily as he followed the boy he learned was called ‘Yixing’, Kris’ nose crinkled closed at the smell of the sterile hallways of the hospital they’d just entered.  
  
“Oh hi, Yixing! You’re early today!” one of the nurses greeted too cheerily for Kris.  
  
“Yep!” Yixing smiled in reply, a dimple gracing his cheek, “Club activities ended early today, so I came straight here. How is everyone?”  
  
“Mr. Yang’s still talking in his sleep and Mrs. Choi still thinks that her grandson would be a great husband for me.”  
  
Kris quickly grew bored of the conversation, having had to suffer through too many of them in the last couple of weeks; Yixing volunteered weekly at the hospital’s long term care wing. The Shinigami didn’t understand it, why waste time on humans there were sick and just a waste of resources?  
  
…  
  
Kris was beginning to regret his decision to choose this human teenager of all disgusting humans for his experiment. He was still bored because the damned child had completely forgotten about the dropped Death Note. Perhaps it was time to retrieve his notebook and move on.  
  
“Here’s your water, sir,” Yixing whispered as he placed the Styrofoam cup down lightly on the bedside table of a patient whose cheeks had hollowed out from his illness, whatever it was. Kris grimaced at the man, wondering when one of his fellow Shinigami would be writing down the man’s name.  
  
A pained groan slipped from between his lips and Kris watched as the muscles in Yixing’s jaw tightened.  
  
“Please, just make it stop, just let me go.”  
  
Yixing stood frozen at the side of the bed, fingers clenching into fists, knuckles white. It was another minute before the boy finally moved, stepping towards the door slowly, pausing once as the sick man let slip another groan .  
  
Kris followed Yixing to the volunteer’s lounge, intending to retrieve his Death Note when the boy suddenly screamed and picked up the nearest empty decorative vase and threw it against the wall, shattering it into hundreds of shards that spilled all over the floor.  
  
“Well,” Kris mused to himself, “This is new.” He waited a moment to see if there would be a follow up but when nothing else happened, the Shinigami shrugged and floated towards the school bag lying on a table in the corner; he could see his Death Note hidden under layers of school books.  
  
“Shit!”  
  
The sudden outburst had Kris turning around to find Yixing sucking on a finger, presumably because he’d cut himself when he was picking up the mess he’d caused. The Shinigami swiftly moved out of the way as the injured male hurried to his bag, rummaging through it until he pulled out a bandage.  
  
 _Clunk._  
  
Both Kris and Yixing looked down to look at the notebook that had fallen in the boy’s rush to find a bandage.  
  
“Oh great. Now I’ll have to figure out another way to get that back,” Kris muttered to himself with a sigh as the boy bent forward to pick it up, his injured finger still in his mouth.  
  
“Death Note…?” Yixing read out loud to himself, flipping the book back and forth curiously.  
  
“You can read. Well, that’s a good start,” Kris commented sarcastically, bored as he climbed the wall and hung upside down from the ceiling.  
  
Yixing settling into one of the couches and his eyes widened at the instructions engraved into the back of the book. “The human whose name is written in this note shall die...”  
  
Kris’ curiosity was suddenly peaked when the boy finally reached into his bag for a pen, hand hovering over the first page after uncapping it, injured finger completely forgotten as he swallowed hard. “It’s a joke, right?”  
  
A grin started to make its way onto Kris’ face as he watched the boy’s hand lower onto the page, pen hesitating as it rested on the first line before it started to ink the name of the last patient Yixing had brought water to.  
  
The grin grew as he watched the boy look at his watch, shoulders tense as he counted down the seconds, a sigh slipping when the six minutes and forty seconds passed. “What were you expecting, Zhang Yixing? It’s just a joke, right?” He slammed the book closed and hopped to his feet, starting towards the mess of ceramic vase again.  
  
“ _Code: blue, C-Wing, Room 323. Code: blue, C-Wing, Room 323.”_  
  
The Death Note fell to the floor again as the boy’s face drained of colour, “Cancel code: blue, cancel code: blue, _cancel code: blue_ ,” he repeated to himself, as if willing the voice that had announced the emergency to speak once more.  
  
Kris laughed at the futile attempt from his upside down position in the corner, roaring louder when Yixing’s neck snapped up at him, eyes widening in horror at the newest addition to his misfortunes for the night.  
  
“Congratulations on your first kill,” Kris drawled as he uprighted himself, wings spreading wide behind him, “Zhang Yixing.”  
  
…  
  
“Really? The power of a Death God and you’re just going to ignore it?” Kris scowled, eyeing his Death Note that had now been wrapped tightly with duct tape and tucked into the top shelf of the teenager’s bookshelf. “What about those bullies you have at school? Just a couple strokes of your pen, and your worries would be gone.”  
  
“I’m not a killer,” Yixing muttered from his bed, eyebrows stitched together as he tried to figure out where he had gone wrong with his math homework.  
  
“Oh? What about that old man at the hospital?”  
  
Yixing hissed as he shot the Shinigami a glare, “ _That was an accident_. I didn’t know that would actually happen.”  
  
Kris frowned, “You’re boring.”  
  
“Then leave me alone.”  
  
“I can’t. You have my Death Note.”  
  
Yixing scowled and crawled out of his bed, heading to the bookshelf. Standing on his tiptoes, he reached for the duct tape bound book and threw it at Kris. “Here. Now you can leave.”  
  
Kris looked down at the book that had fallen onto the floor in front of him, and then back at Yixing who stood staring at him with his arms crossed. He let out a sigh and rolled his eyes, “I need to stretch my wings,” he replied, “Call me if you need anything.”  
  
…  
  
Kris felt the familiar tug another week later as he was flying over an elementary school yard, enjoying the way the children yelped when he made their toys disappear and then reappear several feet away.  
“Oh?” he smiled, “Couldn’t stay away, could you? I wonder who you’ve written down?” he asked no one in particular as he changed direction and headed back to the teenager’s bedroom.  
  
The duct tape was strewn all over the carpeted floor and the boy sat shivering on his bed, Death Note beside him on his pillow as he stared up pleadingly at Kris. “I-I’m so-sorry,” he stammered through hiccups, wiping his cheeks of the tears streaming from his red eyes, “sh-she was in so much p-pain… I had to do it…”  
  
Kris was about to ask why Yixing was apologizing to him, a Shinigami, a god of _death_ , before he realised that the boy wasn’t apologizing to him.  
  
He was apologizing to the owner of the name he’d just written.  
  
…  
  
Yixing didn’t get any better at using his Death Note, even after he’d decided that this was what he could do for his fellow suffering humans. He cried and apologised _every time_ and Kris couldn’t understand it. Wasn’t it _tiring_? Kris certainly was tired of watching this human cry constantly.  
  
“Why do you keep doing it if you cry so much?”  
  
Yixing swallowed hard as he wiped his face with the back of his hand, a wet streak running sideways across his cheek. He slammed the Death Noted closed and shoved it into his bag. “I can’t stand to see them in pain.”  
  
Kris raised an eyebrow skeptically, “Why? Their pain isn’t your pain.”  
  
Yixing glared at the Shinigami. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re just a heartless god of death. You _enjoy_ suffering and death.”  
  
Kris only rolled his eyes. Human. Such a weak species.  
  
…  
  
Kris had been so distracted by the annoying bouts of Yixing’s crying that he hadn’t noticed the numbers hovering the teenager’s head had started to count down faster than was normal for a human. The boy was dying. The Shinigami only realised it when Yixing had collapsed one day in class, his teacher hurrying to call an ambulance to the nearest hospital. Kris’d crouched at the end of the human’s bed as he watched doctors and nurses come and go from his room, waiting for Yixing to wake up again.  
  
“You’re sick,” he greeted when Yixing finally opened his eyes.  
  
The boy blinked a couple times before he looked away, “Yeah. I know.”  
  
An eyebrow arched into Kris’ forehead, “You knew? Isn’t it customary for you humans to get treated when you’re sick? I don’t recall you ever seeing a doctor or taking medication.”  
  
“There’s no cure for what I have,” Yixing whispered, still staring at the wall, away from Kris.  
  
“You’re dying. Shouldn’t you call your parents or something?”  
  
“They won’t come,” Yixing said flatly before he let out a sigh and closed his eyes, “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.”  
  
Kris scowled from the end of the bed as he watched the boy shift on the mattress until he was comfortable. Why were humans so damn breakable?  
  
…  
  
 “Hey Kris?”  
  
The Shinigami grunted in acknowledgement, back towards the boy as he crouched at the end of the bed, a position he’d kept for the last month without moving; Kris didn’t like looking at how fragile Yixing had become in the last few weeks, didn’t like how his face contorted in pain so often nowadays.  
  
“I’m glad you didn’t take your book and leave when I threw it at you back then.”  
  
Kris wished he had.  
  
“I’d like to think that I may have helped those people…”  
  
Kris grit his teeth together at the memories of red eyes that were wet with stupid meaningless apologies. “Of course you did,” he grumbled, “They were suffering and you eased their pain.”  
  
“You can have it back now. I don’t think I’ll be needing it anymore.”  
  
The Shinigami turned around for the first time in a long time, looking down from the haggard face to the skinny arm that held out his black notebook.  
  
“You’re free to go now, right?” Yixing asked as his eyes drifted closed again when Kris took his Death Note from his hands.  
  
Kris watched noiselessly as Yixing’s chest rose and fell slowly as he drifted into sleep again.  
  
He’d gotten his Death Note back, he should leave now.  
  
Instead, Kris opened his notebook from his perch, laughing quietly to himself at the tear drop stains that smudged the fifty-three names scattered throughout the book.  
  
 _Samantha Li, peaceful cardiac arrest in her sleep_ was the last legible entry before a series of scribbles nearly tore a hole in the page.  
  
Kris had to squint in concentration before he realised that they were the beginning strokes of Yixing’s own name, crossed out almost immediately after they were conceived. The Shinigami looked up at the sick boy’s sleeping figure, eyebrows now stitched together in discomfort as his breathing started to pick up in his sleep.  
  
The tip of a poorly sharpened pencil touched a fresh page shakily as Kris started to scratch in a new entry.  
  
 _Zhang Yixing, peaceful cardiac arrest in his sleep._  
  
He closed the book with a snap as he forced himself to watch the monitors at Yixing’s head, teeth grounding painfully as he watched his heart rate slow until there was a flat line on the screen. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as medical staff ran into the room, cursing when he realised he couldn’t even cry, couldn’t even do the ritual properly.  
  
 _“I’m sorry.”_  
  
…  
  
Kris lay on a rock in his own world, staring at the dark sky that never changed, unlike Yixing’s sky. His Death Note rest next to him, unopened since the last entry three ages ago.  
  
“You know, there’s a name for those like you and me,” a voice spoke up, forcing Kris to sit up in surprise. “Really unlucky bastards.”  
  
“You… You’re…” Kris stammered as he recognized the face of tales he’d forgotten. “You’re Xiumin, aren’t you? The Shinigami who fell in love with a human.” Kris used to think it was a farfetched tale, spun by his bored Brothers just to pass the time.  
  
“His name was Luhan,” Xiumin smiled as he took a seat across on a separate rock.  
  
Kris swallowed as he eyed the other, a clench at his chest making it hard to breathe when he picked up his Death Note once more, “Does it… does it get… easier? Does it ever stop hurting so much?”  
  
 “No,” Xiumin answered flatly. “But I _will_ give you this one piece of advice. Don’t avoid the human world. Even if it hurts to be reminded of him. If you’re patient enough, you might even find something interesting.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Xiumin chuckled, “But a warning: it’ll hurt more the second time,” he added cryptically before spreading his wings and taking to the dark sky once more.  
  
“What?” Kris echoed with confusion as he watched Xiumin disappear. “ _What?”_  
  
…  
  
Kris almost fell from his perch on a branch when he caught sight of something impossible.  
  
 _“If you’re patient enough, you might even find something interesting.”_  
  
As if he knew he was being watched, the red head looked up at Kris, seeing right past the Shinigami as a frown formed on his face before he continued chatting with his human friends.  
  
Kris’ fingers closed tightly around his Death Note as a new feeling gripped his chest.  
  
 _“But a warning: it’ll hurt more the second time.”_  
  
He brought a hand to his chest as he watched the red head stop and bend down to tie his shoelace, telling his friends that to go ahead without him, that he’d catch up.  
  
Even if Xiumin was right, that it would hurt more the second time, Kris dropped his Death Note a foot from the red head; this warmth in his chest _right now_ , it was worth a million of the aches he’d been feeling for a thousand years.


End file.
